


Champagne and Coca-Cola

by Lomedet



Category: Sports Night
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-30
Updated: 2007-12-30
Packaged: 2017-11-29 15:14:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lomedet/pseuds/Lomedet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four New Year's Eves Dan Rydell might have celebrated</p>
            </blockquote>





	Champagne and Coca-Cola

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://project-lyse.livejournal.com/profile)[**project_lyse**](http://project-lyse.livejournal.com/) in the 2007 [](http://sn-holidays.livejournal.com/profile)[**sn_holidays**](http://sn-holidays.livejournal.com/) challenge. The prompt I used (which you can still sort of see if you squint) was 'Dan and Casey, counting down to New Years'. Thanks to [](http://phoebesmum.livejournal.com/profile)[**phoebesmum**](http://phoebesmum.livejournal.com/) and [](http://kassrachel.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://kassrachel.livejournal.com/)**kassrachel** for cheerleading and brilliant beta work (not the least of which involved correcting my crimes against apostrophes). Any remaining mistakes are, of course mine.

1.  
The year that Sam was eight and Dan was ten, they successfully bullied their parents into letting them stay up to watch the Times Square ball drop at midnight. David was off with his high school friends, but the two of them hovered on the edge of the grown-up party with cups of champagne they’d snuck when no one was looking. They counted down with everyone else “Five!...Four!...Three!...Two!...One!...” and then watched as all the adults in fancy clothes laughed and kissed each other and made toasts with the sour-tasting champagne.

Not sure what to do, Dan turned to Sam and awkwardly put his arms around his brother, kissing his cheek and blushing fiercely. Their family wasn’t given to displays of physical affection, but there seemed to be an exception made for New Year’s – even Dan’s parents were kissing in the corner in a way that made Dan really not want to watch. Sam hugged him back and took another sip of his champagne, making a face as he did. Then he squared his shoulders and took another, deeper, drink, saying bravely, “It’s not so bad, is it?”

Dan opened his mouth to agree, proud of his little brother for being such a tough kid, when he realized he didn’t like the grown-up expression on Sam’s face, and instead said, “No, it’s **gross**. Let’s go get Cokes from the kitchen, okay?”

He was relieved when Sammy followed him, just like always.

2.  
Dan hadn’t been home since the funer…since the last time he’d been home. He wasn’t sure if he was ever going to go home again – if he’d even be welcome if he did. As things were, he couldn’t imagine being home for winter break without Sam, going into the city without his brother tagging along, arguing with his parents about what movie they were going to watch on the 25th without anyone there to take his side, staying up to watch the ball drop on New Year’s Eve and being the only one in the room drinking Coke instead of champagne. His mother, when he talked to her, had insisted that the best way for the family to cope was to “get on with normal life,” but to Dan all of those things were unthinkable, so he had stayed on campus, knowing that here, at least, if people ignored him, it wasn’t because they thought he’d killed his brother.

He lay back on his bed, watching the clock tick its way toward midnight. From somewhere outside, he heard voices counting down the last seconds to the new year, and then breaking into song: “Should old acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind…”

He closed his eyes and toasted the ghost drinking a Coke on the end of his bed; his own glass of the stuff was mixed with Jack Daniel’s. Part of him hated himself for corrupting this last piece of what he and Sam had shared – no matter how much or what they drank any other night of the year, New Years’ had been reserved for pure, unadulterated Coca-Cola – and part of him wasn’t sure what the point in staying uncorrupted was anymore. He lifted his glass toward the transparent image of his younger brother, fading away even as he spoke, “I’ll never forget you Sam, and I’m so, so sorry.”

3.  
The first half of their first season on the air had been more successful than any of them had dared to dream, so after they wrapped the New Year’s Eve show Dana (in a rare moment of producerly generosity) treated them all to drinks and a late dinner at some gourmet restaurant she’d bribed into staying open with promises of comped tickets to Astros games for the chef and all the servers who stuck around.

They’d come off the air at midnight, so by the time they sat down to eat they were already well into the New Year. Dan refused the offered flute of champagne, asking the waiter instead for a Coca-Cola. Casey cocked an eyebrow at him and Dan just shrugged, not really wanting to explain this personal tradition he only half-understood himself.

Instead, he watched Casey dance attendance on a laughing Lisa, who was giving her husband a gentle hard time for not having been around to kiss her at the stroke of midnight. Casey’d been with him, and Dan pushed down a fierce gladness that he and his partner had seen the year in together. He was happy for Casey’s happiness, really, but he was also highly protective of his and Casey’s relationship – the working one, that is. He raised his glass in a private toast to many, many more New Years’ Eves on the air together.

4.  
The tradition of being wined and dined by Dana after the show on New Year’s Eve continued in New York with one adaptation in deference to the surrounding culture – they ordered in. They’d cycled through sushi, Italian, Dominican (Dan would never forget the tripe soup, or the way Elliot had taken one bite, found out what it was, and turned vaguely green), even Irish from the ‘authentic’ pub next door to Anthony’s. The one constant was Dan’s bottle of Coke, which rested on the table next to the ever-more expensive bottles of champagne.

He’d told Casey the story, eventually, sometime after he made that stupid on-air apology and caught hell from his parents for it. His mother had just looked at him, her eyes full of sorrow and accusations that she’d never say out loud, while his father had taken it upon himself to fill Dan’s answering machine with his rage over Dan “using the tragedy of your brother’s death to add to your pitiful celebrity.” It had taken Dan a while to erase the message. Not because he thought his father was right, necessarily, but because it was the most words his dad had said to him all at once in over a decade. Casey had been Casey, never mentioning it again, except in the lifting of an eyebrow when he saw Dan ringing the new year in with bubbly that was dark and sweet, instead of pale and bitter.

This year Dana’d ordered in Jewish deli (possibly in a belated attempt to comfort Dan for the shitty spring he’d had – even after the network had been bought, recovering from the whole Draft Day debacle had taken time. Lots and lots of time), and Dan was busy piling up corned beef on rye bread already slathered with mustard when he felt Casey at his elbow. “Hey, Danny – put the sandwich down and come with me, okay?”

Dan reluctantly put the sandwich down (it was really **good** corned beef), and let Casey tug him in the direction of their office. When they got there, Casey closed the door and turned to face Dan. He stood there for a minute, just looking, and Dan looked back. He wasn’t sure what the expression was on Casey’s face, but he was pretty sure he’d never seen it before.

Casey looked at him, and then walked over to the desk and pulled out a bottle of Coke and two glasses. He poured them both drinks, and then handed one to Dan. He said, “I wanted to make a toast, but I didn’t want all of them making fun of me.”

Dan cocked his head, “Just me, then?”

Casey scowled, “Shut up. I’m trying to have a…a…moment, and you’re ruining it.”

Dan smiled, “Shutting up.”

Casey sighed, and lifted his glass, “To you and me, and being on the air together at New Year’s. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather be with, and I appreciate that you’re always there for me. I love you, Dan – you’re my best friend.”

By the end of his speech, Casey’s cheeks were bright red, and he was breathing kind of hard. Dan realized that he was having some trouble breathing himself.

He raised his own glass and said, “You’re my best friend, too. I’d say you’re like my brother, but we both know how **that** turned out. You’re the most important person in my life, though, bar none.”

Casey’s smile was bigger than Dan had ever seen, “That’s nice to hear. C’mere, you.”

Dan found himself in the circle of Casey’s arms, trying not to spill his Coke. He squeezed back as tightly as he could, saving up this moment in case it never came again.


End file.
